Ashes

by C B Samet

  “When I dropped him outside your home the other night, he had tears in his eyes and joy in his heart. For a moment, I thought he might fall to his knees and kiss the ground in front of your house.”

  Her mouth quirked, as if she was trying to picture the sight. Lorraine added the vegetable medley into the beaten eggs and grated cheese, and mixed the concoction before placing it into the skillet. “Goran kneels for no one and nothing.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “I bet he kneels for love.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she grinned. Still smiling, Lorraine carried the skillet across the kitchen and slid it inside the wood-burning stove.

  When the quiche finished baking, we sat the children at the only table and fed them first. After they ate, the children went upstairs to play while the adults sat down for their meal.

  “The quiche is delicious,” I commented after my first bite. I cut into one of the fresh, sliced tomatoes accompanying the meal.

  “Yes,” Joshua agreed.

  Lorraine sipped her moon juice. “Goran tells me you’re a healer.”

  “That's right. I have a clinic in Marrington, and I’m working on funds for a hospital.”

  “Hospital?” Her face went blank.

  “It would be like a large clinic, except some people who are very ill could stay there for days at a time until they recover.”

  “Ah. We call those infirmaries. And how did you and Abigail meet?” she asked.

  Joshua smiled at the memories. “I was several years ahead of her at the university. She was my roommate’s pesky younger sister, always getting into trouble.”

  I elbowed him playfully in the side.

  “When she left to work at the castle, I didn't see her for six months. Then, one dark night, she arrived on my doorstep disheveled, distraught, in over her head again, and stunningly beautiful. I realize that night I loved her—and we've been at each other’s side ever since then.”

  Lorraine wiped at her eyes. “That’s lovely.”

  “What about you and Goran?” Joshua asked.

  “I was a farmer's daughter, while Goran worked for the King’s guard. He headed their anti-smuggling division.”

  “Smuggling?” I asked, instantly regretting the interruption to her story.

  Goran swallowed the bite of quiche in his mouth. “Bellosian smugglers have a ring on Southern Kovia. They steal salt, silks, livestock. Local authorities couldn’t manage them, so we did.”

  Lorraine continued. “He and his men showed up at our door one day, asking for food and lodging.”

  Goran absently touch the finger to the scar on his face. “We’d been defeated by a band of smugglers. They’d been ready for us.”

  “They spent a week with us, healing, and helping on the farm as repayment. Then Goran asked my father for my hand in marriage.”

  He chuckled. “Her father said: ‘Why in the name of the Unideit are you asking me? You want to marry her? Ask her.’” Goran took Lorraine’s hand into his, eyes sparkling in adoration as he gazed into hers. “She said ‘yes.’”

  “I think my father feared farm life would shorten my life expectancy, as it had my mother—she died in her fourth childbirth—and he believed Goran could provide better for me than a farmer ever could. And Goran has. He even quit the anti-smuggling division, so I'd worry less about whether or not he’d return home alive.”

  We finished the meal, talking more about the struggles, geography, and politics of Kovia. When we finally gathered the children, Joshua and I thanked our hosts and promised to return in one month’s time, to transport them and host them for dinner at our house.

  I spent the morning removing weeds from the garden. Small, green tomatoes hung from vines, as little buds sprouted on other vines where cucumbers would soon grow. We had peppers, lettuce, carrots, cabbage, corn, and much more planted. Marigolds were scattered between the crops to attract ladybugs, hoverflies, and mini-wasps to eat the insects that eat the plants. The flowers also repelled the worms that tended to infest the corn. Mint, planted near the cabbage and tomatoes, repelled cabbage moths and ants. Rosemary and sage also kept the cabbage moths away as well as carrot flies.

  My hawk, Carrot, perched on a post, watching me tend the garden.

  When I finished, I stroked the raptor’s golden-orange feathers. “Are you feeling neglected?”

  Carrot had only recently become comfortable with the children, and now allowed Natalie to stroke her. Paul and Rebekah were still too rowdy for her wary temperament.

  “Let’s go visit the wizard, shall we?”

  Joshua had the children for the morning, so I had time to travel to the Black Stag Forest. After attaching my leather wristband, I let Carrot climb aboard. I transported us instantly to the edge of the forest, and we walked deep into the clearing where I usually found Orrick. Since freeing him from captivity as an oak tree, he and I had become friends, and I visited him whenever time and my obligations at home permitted.

  Orrick sat on a log in the clearing, and I joined him. I enjoyed the early spring weather. When summer arrived, the incessant heat from the surrounding marsh would make the steamy forest humid and unbearable.

  “I do delight in your visits, Abigail. There’s such a tranquility in casual conversation with a human.”

  I imagined living among brownies would be taxing. The small creatures required a certain conversational finesse.

  “I wish I could visit more often.”

  —except in the summer.

  “You have obligations. I understand.” Orrick looked around, adding, “Is Mal here now?”

  At his question, Mal materialized.

  “Yes.” I transferred Carrot to a low-hanging branch. I had asked Orrick once if he knew of any magic so that he, too, could see his brother—but he’d shaken his head and mumbled something about a ‘work in progress.’ I didn’t push the issue after that, because I’d miss these outings with Orrick and Mal if the brothers didn’t still need me as a go-between.

  Orrick linked his fingers. “Wonderful. What shall we discuss today?”

  Mal smirked. “How about the time we were crossing the gorge on Mount Kapri and the bridge broke?”

  I relayed the message to Orrick, who grimaced. He explained, “I was eighteen, and I never told Mother we nearly lost you.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Orrick’s gaze became distant. “We were children, confined to Karnelik all our lives. Our playground was those mountains—though they probably weren’t any safer than traveling south into the territory raided by Bellosians.”

  I settled into his soothing tale, feeling a sense of accomplishment in bringing the brothers together to reminisce.

  “I crossed the gorge first,” Orrick continued. “As you’re well aware, the mountains are slick with snow and ice. The bridges are no different. The wood was practically petrified from the cold and covered in a sheet of ice. As siblings often do, I dared Malakai to cross while hopping like a rabbit.”

  I glanced at Malakai. “Like a cute, fuzzy rabbit?”

  He bristled. “I believe the request was hop like a frog.”

  “So, he starts hopping, and halfway across I have an ominous premonition, as if someone dropped a lump of snow down the back of my shirt. I cry out for him to stop just as the ropes maintaining the bridge snap. They were frozen, brittle, and stretched to capacity by the weight of the icy planks. The last thing I saw was Malakai grasping at rope and plank as he plummeted into the darkness.” Orrick shook his head. “I thought I’d killed him. Ten seconds, which felt like a lifetime later, he’s calling to me: ‘Are you going to stand there, or pull me up?’ I look down to see him standing on a ledge, holding what was left of the broken bridge still attached to the side of the mountain I was on.”

  Mal gave a tsk. “My own brother, attempting to murder me.” He leaned against a tree trunk he’d created. “The good news was that I used Orrick’s guilt against him for the next year.”

  I turned to Orrick. “Did Mal m
anipulate you after that?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, yes. For the next twelve months he had me covering for him for missed sessions with the tutors, introducing him to women at court, and sneaking out to the market. I broke all sorts of codes and curfews out of guilt for nearly killing him.”

  I grinned. “What made you finally stop?”

  “Sal,” Mal said. A doleful smile suggested a mix of happy and sad memories from long ago.

  “The captain of the guard. Sal Yonik. He was an enormous, burly man one didn’t cross. He caught Malakai and I sneaking out after dark. I confessed our entire shenanigans.”

  “Sal suggested Orrick had sufficiently paid his debt to me. That was the end of it,” Mal said.

  “That was not the end of my brother’s misbehaviors, but it was at least the end of my aiding and abetting him.”

  “Pay no attention to the wizard. I was always a gentleman.”

  The stories and bantering continued, until Baird’s voice in my head reminded me that I needed to take over watching the children and bring Joshua to the Aithos river.

  We are ready for fishing, Baird’s voice sounded in my mind.

  He and I had formed a silent communication link eight years ago, when we’d crossed our traveling stars trying to transport a sizable army. The link proved useful when crisis arose—or when Joshua and Baird wanted to organize their next fishing trip.

  After I coaxed Carrot down from the tree, I bid Orrick farewell.

  “Mom, why are you pacing?”

  I looked at Natalie, who stared up at me from her book. Paul was slaying a chaise lounge in the center of the Inn room as if it were a giant swamp snake. Rebekah jumped vigorously on the room’s bed.

  “I’m waiting for your father,” I explained, as I continued pacing.

  Joshua had gone to speak with his parents about coordinating a group family activity; after all, we’d all taken this spring vacation together to Ntajid.

  At last Joshua returned to our rented room.

  I stared at him expectantly.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “They left a message at the desk that they’ve gone to the springs.”

  “Again?” For two days his parents had gone to the Ntajid springs—a source of relaxing hot water and mud pools, but not a play spot for children. “What’s the point of taking a vacation with them if we aren’t actually spending vacation together?” I found his parent’s company an affront to all of my senses. They were loud, verbose, and generally disruptive. Nevertheless, they were my children’s grandparents, and I wouldn’t deny the children an important familial relationship with them, but his parents had to be willing participants.

  Yesterday, while Bart and Marge went to the springs, Joshua had to spend a half-day at the clinic, and I had the pleasure of managing three boisterous children in the bustling, crowded marketplace of Ntajid all by myself. Rebekah had attempted to touch every ware on display—the ones she could reach at least—while Paul had run through the crowd with reckless abandon. Natalie, meanwhile, would stop at every jewelry booth to stare at sparkling gems. I’d tried to not lose a child in the chaos.

  Joshua rolled his shoulders. “We’re both a little frustrated at the lack of coordinated activities.”

  More than a little frustrated.

  “As lovely and bustling as this city is, they don’t have activities for children.”

  “I know, but my parents have never been to the springs, and they don’t get many vacations running a restaurant.”

  “I’d have been happy to transport them there, if I’d known they weren’t going to spend any quality time with their grandchildren.” Maybe not happy to do so—I might have had to restrain myself from telling them to take the train like everybody else, but eventually, I would have agreed.

  Joshua gave me an apologetic shrug.

  I raised my voice to the room, infusing it with cheer. “How does everyone feel about going to the beach?”

  The children cheered in unison.

  “We’ll go to Marrin Beach. They’ve been cooped up in the room for half the day. Shoes on everyone.”

  “I’ll stay,” Joshua said.

  I started to protest.

  “This way I can speak to my parents when they get back.”

  Now his parents’ behavior had eroded into our family time as well. I bit my tongue. Complaining further wouldn’t help the situation.

  I kissed Joshua on the cheek before we left. “Good luck.”

  “Uncle Baird!” Natalie cried in excitement. She wrapped her arms around the tall monk.

  I stifled a pang of jealousy, trying to remember the last time she’d greeted me with such joy.

  “Fluffy!” Rebekah called.

  Fury fought to control his excitement as he crawled towards the toddler on his belly. She tumbled onto him, clasping his hair in her small fingers. She giggled as he licked her face, before he raced away to discharge his energy a safe distance from her. Fury ran toward the ocean waves, nipping at the water. Then he spun around and weaved his way between the children, barking as they chased after him.

  I gave Baird a sheepish grin. “I’m glad you could join us.”

  “It’s been too long since I visited the ocean.”

  To one side of us, blue waves tumbled along the shore. The water was darker, murkier, and cooler than the pristine waters of Misty Isle, but it was still a pleasant beach. On our other side stretched rolling sand dunes and wispy, marram grass—permanently bowing eastward as a result of the perpetual ocean breeze. In the distance, far ahead of us, rose cliffs along Marrin beach. Behind us were kilometers of shoreline, speckled with the wagons of people visiting the beach.

  Baird had left his blue cloak in the sanctuary and wore brown slacks, rolled to his shins, paired with a white cotton tunic. He looked relaxed as he watched the children play with the wolf.

  “Where is Joshua?”

  “Dealing with his parents.”

  “Hmm.”

  Crisp, foamy water doused my feet as we walked. “I learned of an earthquake in Kovia from the Kovian ambassador at the Spring Festival. Do you know Goran Foal?”

  “I do not. But when Laos heard of the devastation, he sent two monks to offer assistance.”

  “I didn’t see the damage, but I delivered donated supplies from the university to Kovia. It was Natalie’s idea. She orchestrated an entire relief effort.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “We took twenty crates of supplies there.”

  “Much needed, I’m sure.”

  “It seems, in the hierarchy of financially-stable countries, we rank beneath Bellos and Kovia ranks beneath us.”

  “Quite right—and I think that delineation has widened over the years. It’s contributing to unrest.”

  I scooped up a white seashell and ran my thumb along the ridges. “Mal and I often talk about man’s repossession of his own evil. I don’t understand what’s changed. Since I’m the most recent Avant Champion, I feel responsible somehow. I’d fix it if I knew how.”

  “Perhaps the source will reveal itself in time.”

  Would I be able to make such calm, casual statements once I’d lived for over a hundred years? Perhaps, by that time, I would have finally learned to juggle the many facets of life; and problems that now seemed monumental would be minor.

  Baird breathed deeply of the salty air. “Tell me this: Does the sense that you have contributed to the unleashing of evil drive you to intervene when the Queen and Coco ask for assistance?”

  “Yes, but there are other factors.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as knowing I can resolve situations faster and with less risk to the safety of others.”

  “Since times are changing, as you pointed out, perhaps people will need to learn how to remain civilized in the face of incivility—without the fear that magic will be used to control them.”

  Were my interventions as the Avant Champion acts of controlling people through magic? “You’re suggesting that
by intervening, I’ll create a society that only behaves so long as they fear me?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  I watched the children play in the frothy waves. Fury had strayed toward the dunes, chasing crabs and seagulls.

  “Wonderful. Yet another way I can screw up the world.”

  He grinned. “How is your meditation coming?”

  6

  “Did you enjoy the springs?” I asked Marge.

  We ate at a large dining table, big enough for the three children and all four adults.

  Bart had been given the task of feeding Rebekah. Thus far, more food had landed on his face than in Rebekah’s mouth. I made an effort not to laugh out loud.

  “Oh, wonderful, dear,” Marge said to me. “I feel ten years younger. I wish we could come every year, but the restaurant can’t be closed so much.” Her eyes sparkled above a set of round, rosy cheeks.

  Bart dragged a cloth across his face, wiping away the food. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe our favorite daughter in law could ferry us on occasion.”

  Only daughter in-law.

  I started to open my mouth in protest, when Joshua lifted a bite of food to my mouth. “Abbey, try this steak, it’s wonderful.”

  I glared at him, reluctantly chewing the bite of meat.

  Bart’s eyes twinkled. “While we were soaking in the mud pit, I had a brilliant idea. Imagine, Abigail, you could have your own business transporting people to vacation destinations. You could charge them half the cost of train or carriage travel and still make a fortune. People would pay to go places they’ve never been before.”

  “Dad,” Joshua interjected, “Abbey has a full-time job at the university.”

  As I had since they’d known me.

  At last, I swallowed the mouthful of steak. I opted to change the subject. “Since Meredith is close to Kovia, do you get any news from that country?”

  Marge bobbed her head enthusiastically. “Yes, we have travelers who visit from Kovia.”

  “I met a man named Goran, a diplomat from Kovia, who said an earthquake struck.”

  “Oh, yes. Probably two months ago, would you say, Bart? It was the east coast though. Far from us. They said a lot of people were displaced. Did you know anyone affected?”